Bulletproof:
There is no better hell than high school.
A time to live or die.
A time to make or break your future.
For Maria she had to survive same went for Sophia, Raymond and Jackson. But for Anya, Max, Noah living was the last thing they wanted...
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Curled up into a tight ball, Noah squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to a god that wasn't there that everyone would leave him alone.
"Fucking faggot!" Screechedhis mother, her voice echoing in his head.
"YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED" screamed his father, his hands waving around threateningly. "I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Noah sobbed even harder, his body shaking in fear and his eyes burning with tears. And the more he cried, the louder the voices came until he could only hear those voices.
His mothers and his fathers. Both equally as loud as the other, both equally as angry.
"AGGGHH!" Cried out his mother who had picked up a vase and threw it towards him. "Why should I pay for an education for faggots who don't need them! All you'll do is use it on fashion! Stupid bitches only want to become hairdressers or fashion designers, I spent THOUSANDS a year only for you to dress up as a fucking bitch and flaunt around like a whore!" His mothers cruel voice penetrated his thoughts, ruining the only thing that would calm him down. Counting.
Noah squeezed his eyes even tighter together until it became painful, he then curled his freshly painted fingernails until they dug into his skin and hopefully drew blood.
"Whore!"
"Slut!"
"Bitch!"
"Queen!"
"Poof"
"Fag"
"Queer"
Each insult came one after the other and never stopped, each one hit harder and harder, squeezing Noah's heart and turning it to cookie crumble.
"I'm s-so s-s-s-sorry" he sobbed when a piece of glass broke off the cup his father threw at his head and scraped his closed eye, drawing blood. Noah flinched but didn't speak of it.
Finally, after his mother and father had gotten bored, they walked away from Noah with a permanent sneer plastered on their faces, leaving Noah encased in silence.
When he could no longer hear his parents footsteps, he slowly creeped his way out from up under the table he had hid up under when a shard of glass cut his eyelids and quickly ran to his room. Noah slammed shut and locked the door, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath.
Noah walked quietly to his attached bathroom, thanking the heavens that he had been blessed with one when he first moved in, and turned on the bath water. He waited approximately fifteen minutes before the water was hot enough and high enough for him to step into. When he had finally settled in, Noah sighed in bliss.
